


Absolution

by Blue_Jay



Series: Remove All the Pieces + Prompts [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s08e22 Clip Show, Episode: s09e02 Devil May Care, F/M, Fluff, Men of Letters Headquarters, Mental Health Issues, POV Meg Masters, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychic Abilities, Requited Love, Season/Series 08, Season/Series 09, Sequel, Sick Sam Winchester, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Jay/pseuds/Blue_Jay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg has had a thing for Sam Winchester since the day Jake Talley's knife landed him in Hell. Being human doesn't change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> General disclaimer: this is a direct sequel to The Bible Forgot to Mention Us, but with slight changes (Meg doesn't die, there was never any wincest). That also means that this takes largely from the Remove All the Pieces Series, so quick recap of what doesn't show up in Green Eyes Waiting so you don't technically have to read the whole series: Sam's still kind of psychic and also has eating problems, Kevin and Charlie become BFFs over the Winchester Gospels, and Meg sucks at being Hell royalty.
> 
> Oh, and in a story about the Winchester Gospels Becky had all Chuck's unpublished manuscripts actually published through his publisher, which is a slight discrepancy with Slumber Party. Time for a Wedding also never happened.
> 
> Yeah, I got some strange requests.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! It's not as confusing as it sounds!

Hell is beautiful. This is something most humans don’t understand.

After all, the Greeks and Romans didn't get the idea of Hades and Tartarus from nowhere; there really is a garden down there, and rivers, and its own terrain. When she first became a demon and apprenticed under Alistair, she used to spend a lot of free time exploring. As royalty, she basically had free reign up until she went topside and decided to stay there. The soil of the garden is a dark red and hot at the touch and all the plants have thorns or grow food and Father used to say they all tasted delicious but she was so young that if she ate one, she would never be able to exit one of Hell's Gates. She almost did though, anyway, once. A pomegranate. Like Persephone.

Father stopped her and put her back on the rack. Alistair demonstrated new methods of torture on her body. This was her breaking point to going topside and never coming back.

The prison of innocent souls is a dank, dark hallway like a sewer, and the Pit of the Damned is nothing but piles of bones and jagged rocks and screaming leading off to a sheer drop cliff that lands you in a desert cut down the middle with what the Greeks used to call Cocytus where they dispose of all the bleak sadness like it's basic pollution. There's a sky everywhere with no stars or moon but bruise-like clouds and lightning storms without rain. One time, when she was freshly off the rack, she tried to throw herself off a mountain and hadn't expected the ground to be a black river instead of dirt. Most young demons try this once or twice, the transition far from fun. Hell is Hell, and she wanted out.

Hell is so horrendously beautiful, and she hated every inch of it.

This is what she's seeing in her head right before she regains consciousness on the couch of some place she doesn't recognize and the Winchesters are talking over her. About the landscape of it. About how she wanted to tear the whole place to shreds.

Sam catches sight of the fact that she's awake before she even has a chance to sit up. "Hey," he says, cutting off his brother mid-sentence, "how're you feeling?"

"Like I got stabbed in the stomach with an angel blade," she answers and he reaches down to help her into sitting position. Passing out for a demon is easier than hunters think, she found out this past year, but she hadn't know she could dream. "Where are we and what am I doing here?"

Reading minds is an exaggeration, but she can get this - Clarence got her out, Crowley is still alive, Sam's sick, and Dean doesn't like that she's here. Wherever here is. Simply being in this room hurts like a bitch. Sort of feels like a giant devil's trap. "The most well protected place in the world apparently," Dean says eventually. "Think you can leave whenever you want, but you can only enter with one of us."

"Men of Letters bunker," Sam elaborates. "I'm sure you've heard of them."

Last she heard, the Men of Letters have been dead for years. "They were a bunch of pretentious dicks," she says, running her fingers through her hair. Moment she can she's turning it back to brown. Marilynn would've hated it this color. "Heard Abaddon killed them off."

"We're legacies," Dean tells her. "Anyway, Cas zapped you out of there right after you got stabbed. Ended up in our backseat just as we reached the car, haven't seen the guy since. You've been out for twelve hours."

Twelve hours. She, a demon, has been unconscious for twelve hours. "There're rooms for you to pick from," Sam says. "We can get you more medical supplies if you need it and the clothes are outdated by about sixty years, but I'm sure you want out of those. Like Dean said, if you leave, you need one of us to get you."

Next to him, Dean's doing that tense jaw thing he seems to love so much. He doesn't want her there; it took a lot of convincing on Sam's part. Moose here apparently wants her to stay, still feeling guilty for something that happened a long damn time ago by human measures, and she can't say no to that. She's been waiting for her failed Boy King to remember for years. "I'm not taking chances," she says, eyes focused on his face. "Looks like you're stuck with me, boys."

Sam smiles, dimples and dark illness, and she always was the world's worst demon.

 

 

After telling herself that under no circumstance she'd even think about this again, Meg finds herself sitting in the library at three in the morning researching Blanche of Burgundy. According to Wikipedia, she was imprisoned underground for eight years after being accused of committing adultery. She had two mentioned children, and the younger son Philip was supposedly born in jail. That alone makes her want to believe that Crowley is lying, that he switched her around with this Philip kid for some reason only he could think up, but she knows that's not true. There's this nagging feeling in the back of her head where her host used to be telling her that Wikipedia is wrong about its "suspicions" and the brat was born before the accusation. The bastard treated her like a human, and sometimes the truth is more painful than a lie.

She senses Sam coming up behind her before he turns on the light. "How'd you know my password?" he asks, taking a seat next to her as if a demon stealing his laptop to research a long dead royal whore is perfectly normal.

"I possessed you when you were twenty-three," she answers, exiting the window and knowing he'd seen it and knowing it would've been better if he hadn't. "You think I forgot you use the same password for everything? Got to say, a little disappointed in you that it still works, boy genius."

His pajama shirt is the perfect shade of red, she realizes, but she doesn't like the idea of him bloody anymore. "Sorry I'm so predictable," he says with a shrug. "Why were you looking up Blanche of Burgundy?"

"Well, aren't you nosy," she says, not wanting to answer because she doesn't want to admit they have more in common than just blood. "I thought the sick were supposed to get all their beauty sleep? Make them well and pretty again."

"My chest hurts." He looks down, cheeks pink. He really is something else. "Sorry. Don't tell Dean."

Rolling her eyes, she answers, "I'm a demon, and even I'm saying your obsession with lying to each other is unhealthy. I think that means it's time for the two of you idiots to start worrying."

He bites his bottom lip, some blood still caught on the corner of his mouth the way it gathered that day back in Hell, and she wants to act human and kiss it away like it's strawberry jam. The original Meg Masters, one of the few hosts who hated her, was all sappy and sweet like that. Sam's his own twisted version of a romantic, too, without even realizing it. He says, "He already thinks I can't do this and he has Lisa and Ben, so I'm not letting him try." Then, after a moment, he adds, "I'm sorry there's no way to keep you up here. I was going to look for a way how."

Sam Winchester, the only person who can feel that guilty about not keeping the Princess of Hell out of harm's way. His stupid, bright, mutilated soul. "I already told you: give me an angel's blade and I'll show Crowley my version of a good time." She shuts the laptop. "You told me to go for it. Hell's been needing its rightful queen."

He smiles and stands, heading over to the shelves. "Still can get over that you're royalty," he says, pulling out a book. "This is what I've been looking at. Just in case."

The book is on demonology, but not one she's ever seen before. Most demons consider Abaddon such a genius for riding little Josie Sands into the Men of Letters initiation and Meg agrees, but she's always preferred the lower level possessions; the housewife with the adulterous husband who deep down wants him dead, the aspiring actress that needs retribution for what the fake producer did to her, the peasant with the crazy father who thinks she's his wife instead of his daughter. These are the hosts that can hold a conversation, that after a while won't mind her there so much as long as they reach some sort of compromise, but they also lead to very little research.

"Found anything useful?" He shakes his head. "Go get some sleep, Moose."

"Only 'cause you asked so nicely," he answers, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and he stumbles when he goes to head back. He could use some help, but she doesn't offer any.

 

 

Even though she doesn't need to eat, she enjoys food and Dean, as it turns out, is a good cook. "You should appreciate this more," she tells Sam, stabbing at the pie. He sends her a weak glare and turns back to organizing. He's had two cups of coffee and no food since yesterday, but that's normal for him, and who's she to judge? "Where'd Mr. Manly Man Hunter learn how to make desserts?"

Sam doesn't look up when he answers, "He's dating Lisa and she can bake, so she probably taught him."

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten he'd had a go at the White Pickett Fence Living." The pie really is good, or maybe it's just been so long since she's had something to eat that she doesn't remember. "Or what did you call it? 'Apple Pie Life?' That fits more in this instance, doesn't it, Sammy baby?"

"Don't call me Sammy."

"Ship's already sailed on that one. Besides, I added a word to keep it snowflake special."

He basically radiates annoyance, but there's an undercurrent of amusement she appreciates. "Can't you go bother Dean?"

"Big Brother's talking to someone named Garth," she says, putting down the plate and hopping up so she sits on the table next to his book. "Besides, you're more fun." Every time she does something like this, it's almost a gamble; Sam has a growing affection of her, but it's not perfect. When he doesn't answer, though, she takes it as her cue to leave and adds, "Fine. Have it your way. I'll -"

But he stiffens and his hand's around her wrist before she can move. "Don't," he says, nervous, and the air around them crackles. He ignores it and she wonders vaguely if he even notices it's him. "Just - you can stay. Okay?"

She stares down at him for a long moment before saying, "You're seeing something."

"Please don't tell Dean."

Even though he's an idiot, she agrees and pulls her wrist away before slipping her hand in his like she did in Hell seven in years ago and his puppy dog eyes are just as sad and helpless as they were back then. In her past seven hundred years of existence, she's learned that some things never really change.

 

 

After five hours of bitching about how bored she's been stuck in here, she convinces Sam to convince Dean to let her come on a hunt. Besides, demons might not be as powerful as angels, but she's still the daughter of Azazel and that makes her a cut above the rest who are already a cut above humans. Kid brother is sick, she's finally considered trustworthy enough after three years, and she fills a useful role.

Dealing with other hunters wasn't what she expected.

She's been wearing clothes found in the bunker since Marilynn's were ruined, but every time she steps out of the simplified devil's trap under the rug, she nearly burns holes through her shoes. "It still freaks me out that you can do that," Dean says when they're outside to go vampire hunting while Sam stays behind to keep an eye on the Brady Bunch (none of them are happy with this). "Actually, how do you do that anyway?"

With the exception of her father, she's the only demon she's heard of who can walk out of a trap in the right conditions. Pulling up her sleeve so he can see the mark Crowley carved into her arm to lock her in before he started torturing her, she answers, "This body is mine - officially. Marilynn's dead, Lucky gave me a flesh prison. And Daddy must've had enough angel left to make me interesting. Does Crowley's present bring back all those warm and fuzzy memories?"

Of course it does; even if she wasn't able to pick up on thoughts and feelings, she'd know that.

"I'm starting to like you," he says bluntly. "Put that thing away if you want it to stay that way."

She bites back some witty answer and pulls down her sleeve because the Winchesters are currently her only protection - and good protection, at that. Except that it's more accurately a mutualitistic relationship; she's protected them more than once, too.

Like later, for instance, when Sam is tied to a chair and some vamp is clutching the Aiden kid around the neck. Her guidelines for going on this educational field trip were "no killing" and "act human" but now she looks at Dean who gives an exasperated, "Fine," and she raises her hand. Lover boy hits the floor and the vampire slams against the wall before flying forward to end up next to Dean.

"Your birthday came early, sweetheart," she says before adding, "Don't look so shocked, I'm sure you've met a few other psychics," as he beheads the dirty bottom feeder like severing a spinal cord is no trouble at all for a human.

She isn't in the spotlight, though, and next second Dean is talking the Krissy chick out of murder. Meg's midway through untying a shaking Sam's hands (the Trials sure are piling on the abuse) when the gun goes off. Twisting around, she finds Victor went _whoops_ on his own gun. Suicide means Hell. Hell means Crowley.

And hunters have one damn big unit.

What this means must click for Sam too because he asks, "How long do you have?"

Now he's out and Dean's watching. "Crowley set up what he called a waiting room," she says, trying to work her way through it herself. "Estimate about twelve hours before he at least figures out a hunter's down there. Location won't matter. Just that you haven't left me for dead on a street corner."

"Okay. We have to hurry this up," Sam says, immediately accepting this, and starts explaining how the cure works.

 

 

Lisa Braeden comes down with her son for the weekend because of some love triangle ruining Ben's friendship with his best friend and Meg hadn't expected to be invited to movie night. "Dean makes dinner and we watch a movie," Sam says with a shrug. "It's just a thing we do."

She raises an eyebrow. "She really did domesticate him," she answers, but stands because she's bored with nothing to do around here and yeah, she's about to act like a damn human but she can deal. She's been doing it for a solid month now and it's good break from over a year of Crowley's imagination. Even when he isn't actually all that imaginative. "What's the film?"

"Something called _The Hunger Games_ ," he says, almost tripping over his feet while trying to get up the two stairs and really, Dean must be blind not to have noticed before Clarence pointed it out. "Apparently Ben needed to read it for school, but hasn't seen the movie. I'm not really sure what it's about."

"My host read it," she tells him because _she_ knows what it's about, which is rare all things considered. "It involves a lot of explosions and children dying. Sounds acceptable."

He sends a confused look. "You've been in this body since I turned twenty-four," he says. "How long ago did they come out?"

With a shrug, she says, "I don't know, but it _is_ possible for a demon to give control over to their host. As I'm sure you remember."

"A little hard to forget."

"Well, I gave Marilynn some free time to fuck around," she says. "Turns out it was about the same time auditions for those movies were going on. She was trying for an extra. Girl wanted to be an actress and the closest she ever got was a Bounty commercial."

They reach what's become the equivalent to a rec room where Ben sets up the movie and squish into the last available spot because the Winchesters picked a horrible location for the television. Moose has a fever, his temperature hot against one of her sides, and the arm rest of the couch digs into the other. Once he hits play, the kid who is most definitely Dean's son no matter what everyone says because no one else has eyes like that backs up and sits next to his mom.

As it turns out, the movie's almost exactly like the book. She thinks Marilynn would've liked that.

 

 

"Meg, we need a back door where a human can get into Hell."

Sam's face is dead serious. She looks back and forth between the two. "Is this some sort of joke?"

Mouth twisting into a scowl, Dean answers, "It's for the second Trial."

As someone whose father was a Fallen angel, she's always known God was a dick, but this is a new low. Send an overgrown puppy on a day trip through Hell? Seriously? "Depends," she says. "What's the rest of the Trial?"

"I need to rescue an innocent soul and relocate it to Heaven."

Innocent soul. At one point she was an innocent soul and Sam is too, but Heaven has all those loopholes and they were both thrown onto the rack. If she found this out eight years ago, she wouldn't be so offended. "You'll need a rogue reaper," she says and grabs a pen and Dean's unused napkin from earlier, "and another demon to find one. I can give you in-Hell directions to make playing Hercules easier."

The Winchesters exchange a look. "Sure, thanks," he answers. "The innocent soul area is a hallway, right? The way you brought me out?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "Good memory, S -"

"Wait, back up, both of you." They look at Dean and Sam's face pales. Codependency's a bitch. "Led you out of Hell?"

"Baby Brother went downstairs after Second Best put that knife through his spine," Meg answers for him. "You should thank me, Dean. I kept him away from Alistair. Had a lot of fun talks down there before you went all heroic - and all we did was talk. Why do you think, all the way down real deep, he was always so quick to trust little old demonic me?"

Dean's torn between hitting Sam for keeping that to himself, which she thinks is amusing, and hugging her, which is even funnier. A couple lights flicker. "You said you didn't remember," he says instead of doing either.

Sam fidgets. "I only remembered recently."

"How -"

"Okay, children, how about we put twenty questions on hold?" she cuts in before their arguing can start. "Anyway, Sam, you won't have to pull anyone from the rack. That's where souls who did something - suicide, deals, were dicks topside - go or the landing point for the people who get the short end of the stick because Heaven has worse politics than the Cold War. Innocent souls are suppose to be chasing lollipops and sweet dreams upstairs and they're kept in normal prisons. You've got enough demon blood in you that you should be able to open the doors with just a touch and won't raise the alarm."

His face goes sour at the mention of his blood and Mr. Righteous Man doesn't look too happy either, and because Crowley is a bastard she understands the feeling. Instead of commenting, though, he asks, "Any suggestions on who to take?"

Sketching a quick diagram of the corridor, she says, "Souls on the right side and closer to the entrance are newer. Take someone from the last two years. Less corrupted - oh, and they'll probably recognize you."

Oh Lucifer, even their feelings match up sometimes. "Explain," he says.

"Crowley doesn't have the bloodline," she says, handing over the paper. "All souls in Hell recognize the rightful heirs."

Poor Sammy baby accepts the diagram and looks like he could cry.

 

 

The moment Dean leaves the safe boat, she knows something's wrong. He's pissed - and part of it is aimed at her.

But at least the knife's not out when he says, "Tell me you didn't know the entrance was through fucking Purgatory and you weren't just fucking with us."

Purgatory? What? "I thought it would be through Cold Oak," she answers, no lies or tricks because even demons are more honest than Winchesters. "Just didn't want to say it in case I was wrong. What's this about Purgatory?"

He lets out a huff and runs his fingers through his hair. "Naomi decided to pop in for a visit," he answers, stalking off the car and she follows because of course she will. "You know, Queen Bitch of Heaven? Said the reaper way to get to Hell was through Purgatory. Now the reaper's dead and Sam's in fucking Purgatory!" He's at the car and turns to look at her, eyes straight up pleading and he's Dean Fucking Winchester so this is serious. "He trusts you and I get it, I do. Please promise you ain't lying."

"Want me to let you in on a little secret?" she says, even though she's not an idiot and knows he knows but for him to figure out any sort of plan he needs to believe her when she says she's telling the truth. "You know your theory that somewhere in the fucked up mess that is my head and my black, icky heart I've got a thing for your brother? That's absolutely true. And I want him out alive."

His expression goes blank and he opens the door. "Awesome," he says, "get moving." Then, when they're in the car, "You know nothing's gonna happen, right?"

Leaning back against the seat, she answers, "I'm crazy for doing it, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. Considering your last brush with a 'good' demon, I'm surprised I'm not shish kabob."

"We don't like to talk about it. And there are a lot of reasons you should dead by now, but I guess you're just lucky."

She ignores him. "She's the one who sold me out, you know," she says after a moment. "Ripped me straight out of this body and handed me over to darling Lilith. Then I got out, and discovered she screwed with my favorite little hunters. Always have been disappointed you got to her first."

He gives his this odd look when his eyes should really be focused on the road and she feels the usual small victory that he trusts her just that little bit more.

 

 

They take a stop on the way back from Maine so they don't drive straight and after giving a baffled Lisa Braeden an explanation as to why a demon can get into her heavily warded (and incredibly painful) house, Meg offers to stay up with Sam to make sure he doesn't die in his sleep. Along with help from his girlfriend, they get Dean to agree and crash for a few hours himself. Idiot codependent Winchesters.

Sam's delusional, it turns out, hallucinating and hacking up blood with his body temperature rising. "We're finding a way to keep you out of there," he says, looking at her with glassy eyes. "I swear, I'll go back and get you myself if I have to."

Even though he's had a guilt trip a mile wide for leaving her before, this is a little much. "What happened to you down to there?"

He twists, pressing his face into the pillow. "I was down there for two months," he mumbles. "Now Lucifer won't shut up."

She's a demon, she's not affectionate, and she has no excuse when she reaches over to brush his hair away from his face.

 

 

It comes down to this: she goes shopping with geek girl because clothes from the 1950s can only get you so far and she's been assigned babysitting duty while Big Brother and Charlie Bradbury go hunting monsters without the experienced two. Right. This all makes perfect sense.

Sam's going to be a complete dick about it.

"So, I've got a question for you," Charlie says, checking out the business-looking outfit in the mirror that Meg gave the general _yeah, that works_ to. She picked out her own few pants and shirts within the first ten minutes (the card's a fake, so it's not like there's the fun of maxing it out and watching Dean Winchester flounder at the result). "Do you mind?"

She looks up from her phone where she's playing Tetris. "Maybe," she answers. "Shoot."

"I read the books." Oh, awesome. Perfect. Those books she didn't even know existed until about three hours ago. "And, well, you kind of talk like one of the characters. Are you really her? _The_ Meg Masters?"

Meg Masters. She dropped the name Masters the moment she could. The hospital didn't look much into it, but Meg Masters was a real person; using that name could only work for so long, no matter how generic it was. The new false ID Dean made her reads Meghan Bennet. Loving the lack of creativity there. "I might be," she says, "but I had one Hell of a redemption arc, baby. Ready to return to the boys or are you planning on knifing me?"

Charlie disappears back into the dressing room. "Nope, no knifing," she answers, voice clear through the curtain and Meg slips her phone back in her pocket, wishing she'd forced Dean out the door instead of letting the two of them convince her to do it instead. They can be more evil than her sometimes. "You weren't particularly subtle. I mean, really. A fruit basket? Seriously? And saying how you're going to go to Europe together? Half the fanbase ships you."

"What do you mean, 'ships?'" She's unarmed, but that doesn't make her any less dangerous, and she tries not to do anything the Winchesters would consider "bad;" gaining their trust was hard enough as it is and she's not starting from square one.

"It's a long story." Charlie exits, clothes thrown over one arm. "You're the favorite female character apparently."

"Oh, goodie. I can't tell whether I should be flattered or creeped out."

"Uh, how about flattered?"

Sam or Dean should be the one tortured by this, not her. "Sure, whatever, Hermione," she answers, turning around. "I'm paying and getting out of here. All these humans are making me itch."

Charlie doesn't argue.

 

 

"Come on, Dean _and_ you," Sam is saying. "I'll be fine."

For the past half hour he's been trying to wear her down. "No," she says, and goes back to reading _Jane Eyre_. She started catching up on books since watching Clarence and the Men of Letters has a library full of novels (also, geek girl is right: the name is completely sexist and that alone is reason for them to die). "Maybe next time, Wonder Boy."

He flops back in his chair, crosses his arms like a kid. His nose is even red like one. Guy takes a walk through Hell and comes out sicker. The masochistic freak barely even eats, though that's nothing new. "I'm not really all that bad."

She turns the page. "You took a tumble just this morning, Sammy baby. Try again."

"It'll get you out."

"Who says I'm not enjoying our quality time together?"

"We can have quality time together in the car."

She glances over the top of her book. _You know nothing's going to happen, right?_

"Fine," she answers, and snaps it shut.

Dean's going to kill them both.

 

 

She stays back while the boys are on a search for God's secretary because demons and angels don't mix, and they return with an even sicker Sam and stabbed Castiel. Apparently Kevin's heading on over soon, too. It'll be like they're one big happy family.

Oh, goodie.

Still, seeing Clarence back and not dead is good and she helps set him up so the melted down angel blade bullet wound (as much as she hates to give Crowley any credit, that wasn't a half-bad idea) can heal in one of the spare rooms close enough that he can give a shout if he needs anything and any of them will be able to hear it. He falls unconscious almost immediately, which is much stranger to the Winchesters than it is to her, and she joins them in the library because she might have the same soft spot for him that she has for Dean, but she's not watching anymore people sleep. "So'd you find out that last Trial of yours, boy?" she asks, leaning her hip against the table. Sam looks over from the space of nothing he was staring at and Dean glances up from her phone.

Since Sam doesn't really seem to be focusing on anything, Big Brother answers, "Yes, we did. We need to cure a demon. Something tells me you don't know how to pull that one off."

"Sounds too fairy tale to me," she says. "You sure feathers wasn't lying?"

Sam shakes his head. "Maybe there's something in here. Or maybe an older demon would know."

"Doubtful. I might've preferred hanging around all you little humans all those years, but I would've heard about that."

"Awesome," Dean says, looking back down at his phone and replying to whatever text message either his girlfriend or his son sent him. He's so exhausted he isn't feeling much of anything at the moment. "Well, Sammy, looks like we're starting at square one on this."

Figuring out the third Trial means she'll be trapped in Hell again soon. As much as she makes it sound like she doesn't mind, Hell is still Hell and even when she gets to rule over home turf, that isn't changing. "Well, whatever you figure out," she says because, like the rest of her species, she has poor impulse control, "you can use me as a test drive. You know, just to make sure this miracle cure works."

The two glance at each other. "I guess being human will keep you from getting shut in," Sam says, "and I did say I'd try. So, deal."

She tries to decide what's better, living or getting the opportunity to stab Crowley in the face. Ultimately, she decides survival is better even if she will need to live as a disgusting human and she doesn't regret this. "Deal," she agrees, and steals Dean's drink.

 

 

As they explore the downstairs archives and after the boys get into a spat over Dean being himself to Clarence, she decides to give them a cautionary heads up. "In case either of you get desperate and start running out of ideas," she says, pulling a book on demonology she's never seen before off the shelf only to realize it's just a different cover, "I probably couldn't be used for the actual Trial anyway."

Her back is towards them and there's a pause before Sam asks, "What'd you mean?"

"Well, I'm supposing 'curing' means returning to a human state," she answers, reaching for another title written in Old Irish, "and I was like you when I was alive, Moose. If the cure just reverts me back to how I used to be, I'll still have demon blood running through my system."

It turns out this book is a bust too. Dean's, "Seriously?" is overlapped by his brother's "You said you didn't remember who you were."

Turning around, she says, "That was seven years ago. You remember that?" When he shrugs and pulls out a file, she adds, "Anyway, I didn't. Or don't. Crowley decided to enlighten me during our extended fun times together."

"So what did you go downstairs for?" Dean asks because he's always been the one to care less about privacy. The hypocrite.

In the moment before she can say anything, Sam connects the dots and answers for her, "She didn't do anything, Dean. That's it, isn't it? Why you're so...weird for a demon."

During her confinement Crowley told her, _We're demons; we aren't supposed to have virtues._ "Well, isn't that the million dollar answer," she says and they spend the rest of their search in silence.

 

 

Apparently it's an exorcism and after a full six hours of fighting, Dean's the one curing her since it's not going towards the Trial. They look it up and find out that the bunker doesn't count as consecrated ground, so she and Dean spend the time searching for the nearest place while his brother crashes and eventually he just calls up their convenient Men of Letters priest friend at two in the morning, asking to use to church. In typical Winchester fashion he somehow manages to swing it, and eight hours later she's sitting in the back room with the priest making sure the place stays empty incase she starts screaming. They also needed to compromise because the close-minded old man doesn't believe that a demon can have feelings, too, so she's not tied up, but she is stuck in a devil's trap.

No one mentions she can break out from the inside.

"I feel like a fucking druggie," Dean says as he draws out the first vial of blood. Sam's sitting on the couch next to her in case of complication.

She holds out her arm. "Try being the one receiving it," she says irritably and the feeling of "purified" human blood entering hers burns. "Well, this is going to be a fun eight hours."

"You offered," Sam points out and coughs wetly into his elbow. "How do you feel?"

Disoriented already, she realizes, but doesn't say it. She can't tell if he's being sincere or sarcastically imitating the video. "Like a demon," she answers dryly instead. "I probably won't start feeling anything until the halfway point, genius."

"Jesus, Princess, you don't need to get so defensive."

"Should you really be using the Lord's name in vain in such a holy place, Moose?"

Dean rolls his eyes and takes a seat across from them. "You two can flirt later," he says, putting the syringe down and Sam's cheek's flush enough to be as pink as the tip of his nose. "We need a demon to actually do to the Trial," he continues. "ASAP."

Pushing her hair away from her face, she asks, "Is it too hopeful to suggest Crowley?"

Though he gives her his usual dimpled smile, Sam's so sick it seems more tragic-puppy than happy-puppy. "Yeah, just a bit," he says.

"I'm thinking of using one we've already got tagged," Dean says, ignoring them.

Again, Sam coughs. "You mean Abaddon. We -"

"Abaddon?" Meg interrupts. "Okay, boys, we've got eight hours. Back up and fill me in."

So they do. Only the Winchesters have weird enough luck to meet the disappeared Knight of Hell in a dirty motel room.

She almost pities them.

 

 

As expected, she started feeling the cure around the fourth injection, emotions like fear and oddly hope coming in stronger, and she hasn't felt guilt or sadness like this since she was human. At the fifth injection the memories began and by the sixth she starts to all-out sob for the first time in seven hundred years. Several lights spark and the boys ask her what's going on at the same time.

"I'm sorry," she hears herself saying without really meaning to. "I'm so - your friends - and I just - y-your - And Marilynn -"

She breaks down further, pulls her kneels up to her chest and buries her face in them. A hand touches her a back and she feels utterly repulsed by it; no one should be touching her, not after what she'd done, the townspeople had done the right thing, burning her like that. And especially not one them who she -

Then Sam asks, bewildered, "Marilynn? Your host?"

She peeks up and he looks so horribly, horribly concerned. "I got her killed. " She hiccups. "Stupid girl l-liked me, said I could - said she'd protect me a-and one of Crowley's found me and shot her and I couldn't save her and it's all my fault -"

Sam's hand moves off back and his arm stretches around so it rests on her opposite arm. "Uh, look," Dean says, awkwardly, "you wore her through the Apocalypse, right? That means you technically kept her safe through that. And you gotta blame Crowley, not -"

"I killed s-so many innocent people." Meg Masters, Ellen and Jo Harvelle, assorted hunters, a few hosts, the random person for kicks even though some deserved it. So many innocent people. "How are you defending me?" she asks. "All of those friends -"

"Look, we're hunters," he answers. "We've killed our damn fair share, too, Meg. But you've got to calm down if we're going to finish this."

"You should kill me -"

"Hey, no talking like that," Sam cuts in. "I promised I'd keep you alive. That's the whole point, remember? Besides, we're all friends now, _right_ , Dean?"

His brother adds, "Yeah, absolutely. And we're keeping promises, so how 'bout number seven?"

Friends.

She holds out her arm without protest.

 

 

The moment Dean removes his bloody hand from her mouth, she already feels closer to her old, more recent self (maybe the whole antichrist thing is saving her from a miserable personality flop). Unfortunately, her body also experiences massive amounts of stabbing pain.

Both of them seem to figure out what's going on pretty quickly because Sam's got his phone out, dialing 911 and his brother's running to get the priest. "Hang in there, Meg," he says as it gets harder and harder to breathe and the grip on his arm tightens. "C'mon, just a little - I need an ambulance to the local church. My friend's stopped breathing."

If the person on the other line answers, she doesn't know. She passes out almost before Sam finishes speaking.

 

 

When she wakes up, she's in a hospital with only Dean there and is too drugged up be disappointed.

After the typical exclamations of "Holy fuck, you're awake," he says, "Sammy's filling out insurance. It's Lisa's so it's legit. We've got to go take care of a few things and she's going to come pick you up in a couple of days on her way to the bunker if we can't."

It takes her a moment to process this. Since drugs like this didn't exist when she was human, she's never felt like this before and doesn't like it. "How long have I been out?" she manages to say.

"About twenty-four hours," he answers, running his fingers through his short hair. "You said your host - Marilynn or whatever - got shot. I'm taking it that was in the chest." She nods. Everything's kind of foggy. "Well, your right lung co - I've got to take this. Sam'll probably be here in a minute. He's been worried."

Apparently drugged up and human isn't enough to not make her a little satisfied about that. Again, she nods, but Dean's already got his phone out and exiting the room.

Sam enters what feels like not long after, but time's hard to measure. She's not sure if this is because of whatever they're giving her or a demon to human adjustment side effect. The heart monitor is beating steady. She's actually a legitimate human and now that this is official, it feels like a relief instead of something she did out of survival instinct. "Hey," he says, one half of his mouth quirking up into a smile as he takes a seat on the side of her bed and she knows soon doctors will be flooding here and he'll have to leave. Actually, he'll have to leave anyway. "How're you feeling?"

"Awful," she answers bluntly, forcing herself to sit up. "Being human aches."

He smiles. Even sick he's attractive. "Yeah, I guess that's true," he says. "Look, I know it sucks, but you're going to have to stay here and focus on getting better while we finish up. Abaddon didn't pan out. We're going to use Crowley instead."

Everything's too off for her to process _Abaddon didn't pan out_ and its implications. "That makes the pain a little more bearable, Moose," she says, relieved she sounds normal. "You better come back in one piece. I'll consider it a birthday present."

Giving her an unreadable look, he tells, "Happy birthday, Meg," and leans forward to kiss her. She doesn't even have time to react before he pulls away, moves closer to hear ear, and adds in a lower tone, "I'll see you in Heaven. You can finally take me to London."

Then he's gone and the doctors are rushing in and she doesn't even notice she's crying until someone points it out because she knows that was a permanent goodbye.

 

 

Because of Clarence and actual psychology major Meg Masters, she has a lot of medical knowledge, but most of it is based in psychiatry. She has no idea what Dr. McKinley does that almost sends her into a coma.

She wakes up two days later to find no one but a nurse waiting for her, and it isn't long before Lisa Braeden shows up. "Have you heard from Dean?" Meg asks immediately because they took her off the more hardcore drugs and her mind's clear enough for her to remember what Sam said.

Lisa nods and she looks exhausted. "They're probably back home by now," she answers, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, I don't know what they -"

"Wait, they?" she says. "'They' as in both of them are still walking and talking?"

"Yes," the other woman says. "I don't know the details, Sam was unconscious the first time Dean called and then on my way here he said they were almost back home but could I still get you because their route wasn't taking them through Nebraska and I don't know and a person fell on my house and destroyed it or I would've been here earlier."

Sam's alive. Sam's alive. Which is about ten shades of hugs and puppies for her, but also means something went wrong. "What do you mean, someone fell on your house?" she says, pushing off her blanket and swinging her legs over the edge of the hospital bed.

With a helpless-looking shrug, Lisa says, "Me and Ben were getting our stuff together and suddenly these balls of light started showing up in the sky. Next thing I know a person is crashing through my roof with a force that completely destroyed on half on my house. Dean, being Dean because Sam is unconscious, didn't really answer my questions but I'm calling it now and saying Fallen angels. Somehow."

"Fallen angels."

Another nods. "Which means you," she continues, "as Hell's equivalent to Anastasia or whatever the two of them meant, should probably hightail it out of here before anyone comes poking around, human or not. I'll have to sign you out AMA. Do you think you can do it?"

"Just because I'm human doesn't mean I'm suddenly made of glass." She hadn't thought either of the Winchester would bother explaining Hell's hierarchy to anyone before. "Hand me your phone. I have to make a call while you sign me out."

Lisa does without question and walks out to find the doctor. Meg quickly dials Clarence's number, and doesn't wait long for recorded voice to tell her the number is out of service. Next she tries Sam, then Dean, and neither of them pick up.

She waits, and Lisa comes back with the clothes she arrived in.

 

 

The first thing she gets walking into the bunker is a hug from Kevin Tran who's never touched her in the entire time they've known each other. "They said you were alive, but everything's so crazy I didn't think you'd make it," he says, looking at the three of them. He looks like someone had twelve hours of fun with him on the rack and the bunker itself is a makeshift warzone. So much for Sammy baby's OCD-level neat and orderly system.

"Where are they?" Ben asks, stepping out from behind his mom. "They made it here okay, right?"

Kevin is looking exclusively at her when he says, "Metatron lied. That's why all the angels Fell and Hell isn't closed. They're tying up Crowley in the basement."

She expects anger, but that's what a demon would've felt, and it twists itself into fear magnified by humanity. "Crowley?" she repeats. "Why the fuck do they have Crowley? What is he doing he still alive?"

"I don't know. They should be stabbing him right now! Ask -"

"Chill out, Kevin, we need him," Dean says, the Winchesters coming around the corner and he goes straight for Lisa and Ben. "Christ, you guys actually made it."

"You look better," Sam says, breezing completely over the King of Hell subjecting and giving her a little smile even though he still looks like he could use another month of sleep. "How's being human treating you?"

Her "Would be a lot better if you stop scaring me, sweetheart" overlaps Lisa's "Can someone explain the Crowley situation, please?"

With his tone annoyingly even, Sam answers, "Guys, look, if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he's got topside, we could hunt 'em down. All of them."

"He will break," Dean adds before anyone else can say anything, "and when he does, we'll hold him down while Kevin and Meg knife him." He glances at her. "If you're still into that sort of thing."

"I think my humanity's willing to take a break if it's for Crowley's sake," she answers, crossing her arms.

Sam looks around at all of them. "Just stay away from him," he says. "Lisa, Ben - Dean filled me in with what happened to your house so we're obviously pretty full here right now. Do not go down to the archives."

"Yeah, okay," Lisa says. "We got that. Stay away from Mr. King of Hell."

Kevin asks, "So now what?"

Dean focuses his attention back on him, but is still largely addressing the group when he says, "I need to make a few phone calls. Kevin, you need to hit the angel tablet and see if you can find anything on the spell Metatron used to empty out Heaven."

"Maybe we can reverse it before the God Squad can do too much damage," Sam says and Meg just really wants to ask what she missed because Sam's alive, a spell locked up Heaven instead of Trials apparently, her angel is missing, and Hell's still open.

"Check the Net for anything angel-y," Dean says, though she can't tell if he's addressing Kevin or his brother.

"Or demon-y."

"Or monster-y or ghost-y or huh, it's going to be a busy year." Apparently being human also means she can get overwhelmed and she really doesn't like this. "Lis, Ben, you guys should probably set up more, uh, permanently or something while we start this and Meg...Are you okay?"

Instead of answering, she just sinks down into a chair. "Just give me a minute," she answers, taking a deep breath. "Then one of you is telling me what's going on."

The boys exchange a look. "I'm going to go call Garth," Dean says. "Sammy, fill her - them, I guess - in."

He's already dialing as he leaves and Sam sends his back a glare before turning around handing over an explanation that sounds halfhearted at best.

 

 

She's making her bed, which was done up in a way that suddenly bothered her because it's not how Clarisse did it and her memories are coming back strong, when Sam comes in. "We got a call," he tells her, leaning against the door with his arms cross. "Just thought I should tell you before we leave."

Like for most case, he's already in his suit. "What, and fragile human me can't play along?"

"Maybe if you had an extra day to recover," he answers. "I mean, Meg, your lungs collapsed. Take a day of bed rest. Please. For me."

"You were dying too."

"It's different."

She doesn't answer right away, just takes a few steps closer. "I don't like parts of this already," she says, meeting his eyes because it's easy for her. At one point she thought his eyes were warm like hellfire and sunshine wrapped into one. That hasn't changed either, and now she's even waxing poetry. Supposedly Joan liked to write poetry, but her sister also hated her so it's not like they talked enough for her to ever find out. "I used to be able to read people. Mostly I used it for manipulation and safety because demon and all those unpleasant things, but it's weird without it."

With one side of his mouth quirking up into a smile, he says, "Well, I'm guessing you still know me pretty well. You've still got your memory clearly and we were, uh, well acquainted. To say the least."

"Oh, don't remind me." She crosses her arms too. "Regaining humanity means a constant guilt trip. And since you're right about my super special perfect memory, I know I feel a lot like you."

When he laughs, it's halfway to humorless. "God, I am sorry for you."

They're quiet for a moment. Then, "What happened? That wasn't your typical Goodbye Friend Of Mine, See You _Demain_ I expected."

"We found out Metatron lied about a lot of things," he answers and it comes out too fast for it to be the full truth. "You know, like Heaven. And he never mentioned in person or on the tablet about anyone dying. How did we know he wasn't lying about that too?" He pauses, then adds, "Besides that, I lit a fucking candle by myself during a panic attack about half an hour ago right in front of Dean which means now he knows I'm still screwed up beyond fixing, so that was a fun reminder that I have demon blood. Who knows? Maybe it wouldn't have worked."

"Well, hey, at least we're screwed up together," she points out. "How about we kill Abaddon and you can take me out on a fancy dinner date? We don't even have to fly to Europe."

His smile grows, looks a little more genuine, and she feels accomplished in a different way to she did down in Hell when he started to break. "You'd want that?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "Why not? We can go to the shore or something. I haven't been to the ocean since I was a six-year-old human. It'll be like our own cheesy movie with a plot twist no one saw coming."

"You know what?" he says. "Dean, Lisa, and Ben can finally get that family vacation without feeling morally obligated to bring me along, too. Anywhere you want to go. In the US."

"Yeah, then I'm calling it. We're going to beach. Just two crazy kids with Hell in their blood who can touch the sea and not feel it burn."

"Well, it just sounds so pleasant when you put it that way, Your Highness."

Split second decision, humans can be selfish too so why not, she thinks, reaching forward to grab him by the collar of his jacket. To get something you want sometimes you just need to go for it and she's wanted this for a long damn time. After a moment his hand goes to the small of her back, pressing forward too, and he's practically bent in half even with her on the balls of her feet, her hands twisted in his hair. It's better than the hospital, better than Hell; this isn't a goodbye or even particularly a Hello, How Are You and something about her regained humanity makes it so much more -

Then, from somewhere else, Dean calls, "Sammy, hurry up, we're on a time limit!"

He pulls away from her and twists around. "Give me a second, jerk!"

"I bet your hair looks fine, bitch!"

He doesn't answer his brother. "I'll, um, be back...soon," he says.

As she flattens his collar, she says, "If you aren't back by tomorrow, Sammy baby, you bet your ass I'm coming after you."

He just sort of smiles and leans down to give her another quick kiss goodbye before leaving. For the first time she feels truly, one hundred percent human.

And it's remarkable.

 

 

So the boys take the case and she gets a phone call from an unknown number because Kevin's taking a bathroom break to throw up again and she wants to feel useful. Besides, it's one of Dean's and she's been waiting on a call from Clarence.

"Hello?"

" _This is Dean's phone_." The voice on the other line definitely isn't the one who she wanted it to be and there aren't many hunters' she wouldn't recognize either. " _But you're not a Winchester. Who are you?_ "

Leaning back against the table, she answers, "They can't come to the phone right now. So it's me or nothing, sweetheart."

" _Well, then,_ sweetheart," the other woman says, " _I need you to give those boys a message for me. I have something they might want_."

Oh, wonderful. A trap. "Who is this?"

" _They call me Abaddon_."

So Crowley terrified her, but at the name Abaddon, she feels straight up, pure hot anger, which means those memories are a lot stronger than she thought. "Abaddon? That certainly changes things," she says, keeping her voice steady. "You wanted to know who I am? I'm the one you're probably wondering about every single time you think about Crowley and how he can call himself King."

There's only a moment's pause before Abaddon starts laughing. " _Oh, honey, you should've said so sooner_ ," she says. " _How the Hell did you let Crowley become the ruler?_ "

"It complicated. We went through Lilith first."

" _Ha. Mother. You never did get along with her. Now what're you doing with Dean Winchester's phone, Princess? Don't tell me you got to them before I did. That's just unfair_."

Kevin rounds the corner, clutching his stomach, and she raises her hand let him know to keep quiet. "Actually I didn't," she answers and makes a writing motion so the kid can get what she needs. "And you aren't getting them either, Dear Abby."

There's another a pause before Abaddon says, " _Y_ _ou're who they meant they said they knew it was going to work. Those sick fucks ruined you_ ," and all amusement is gone from her voice. Kevin hands her a pen and a pad of paper.

"I volunteered," she tells her because that was so backwards it's hilarious. "And you're a Knight, not a Queen; you're about as fit to rule Hell as Crowley or me."

" _You little_ -"

"Now tell me where you are so I can hand it over to Sam and Dean because I would love nothing more than to watch you burn, _Knight_."

Abaddon rattles off the coordinates a clipped tone and adds, " _Erve Franklin and Tracey Bell. They're hunters._ "

"And let me guess: they die if the boys don't show they're pretty faces? Predictable, even for you."

" _You want to see me burn, Princess? Come and try._ "

Meg hangs up without a goodbye.

 

 

"I'm coming," she tells them when they show up to pick up a few more supplies and to not tell Lisa and Ben the full extent of what's going on.

Shaking his head, Sam says, "You're human now, you can't do the stuff you used to be able to. No, you're not."

She glances to the side, focusing on the lights on the table, and explodes three. "I've been human for about five minutes, Moose," she says, looking back at them. "In all the time I've known you, you've had about the control of a two-year-old. Besides, I've taken my day of ordered bed rest."

After a moment of nothing, Dean jerks his head and says, "Come on."

 

 

Watching Sam get blamed for some hunter rookie's parents dying is a little awkward considering all demons do now is complain about him ending the Apocalypse so the fact that he jumped is common knowledge and also that he fought against it the whole way through and here she is, without blamed, despite being Lucifer's Second in Command after himself.

"Meg, still go with Dean," he says, not looking at any of them once they switch around who goes with who. "Just in case. Dean, look out for her."

"Hey, I -"

"Wasn't planning on letting her die, Sam," his brother answers and grabs the back of her shirt as the two head in different directions. If she's still going with Dean, that means they're going after Abaddon despite now having a rookie instead of a veteran with them. Oh, this'll be loads of fun. "Go left," he adds.

They're walking close the wall with Dean at the front, her at the middle, and girlie at the back. Recently human or not, she still has years worth of experience on Tracey Bell or whatever her name is, so logically she should be at the end, but Saint Dean apparently has it as a secondhand mission to make sure she stays safe. She's not sure if this is because of Sam or what, but it's annoying. She's human, but an adult, not a child.

Now she understands why Sam gets so irritated.

Suddenly he says, "Listen, for the record, Sam's not the only guy who thought he was doing right and watched it all go to crap, okay? That's just part of being -"

"Being a hunter -"

"Being human."

"Or being a sentient thought form in general," she adds. "Humans aren't the only ones with morals."

With a small nod bordering on thoughtful, he continues, "Look, you want to be pissed off at Sam, that's fine, I get it. But if you want to go after someone, you make sure they've got black eyes. You got to know who the real monsters are in this world, kid." The look he shoots at her has an added _Not you, smartass._

"You should probably also know Sam swan dived into Hell and ended the Apocalypse, too," she says and when Dean's look morphs into one of exasperation, she says, "She's a green, she'll find out soon enough and after this is over, how about we keep to sweetness and fluff, 'kay?"

He shakes his head in disbelief and before rookie can do anything, says, "We've wasted too much time already, but yeah, thanks, Meg. Let's go meet your Knight and hightail it out of here. I promised Ben tacos."

Unfortunately, Abaddon finds them before they find her; she strong arms Dean to the ground at the same moment she blasts and sticks Meg to the wall because fuck her (though she really has to hand it to her, Josie Sands makes one really hot vessel). Tracey shoots the gun in full, but the bitch just smiles and raises her shirt. "Nice grouping," she says, and doesn't notice Dean slowly going for the flask in his pocket. "Kevlar. Beats magic bullets. I love the future."

Then he flings the holy water in her face and in the onslaught of pain, he stands up and Meg falls hard against the ground. As he hands the rookie chick his keys of the magical release from responsibility, she pulls herself up, reaching for the angel blade. Her fingers are barely on the handle before she's stuck again, head slamming painfully against the brick wall.

"Finally," Abaddon says. "The three of us alone at last. You've got a lot of questions to answer to, Winchester. And wait your turn, Princess, we'll get to you soon." He barely has time to attack before she has him twisted up. "I missed you. You miss me?" she continues, holding him from behind, but she's making eye contact with Meg right before dropping him to the ground. She tries to repeat what she did to the lights earlier to get off of this fucking wall, but she's stuck completely and Abaddon just smiles. "Don't bother trying, love. Did you really think I wouldn't figure you would keep your father's blood?"

"No," she gets out, "but unless you forgot, I am the one who possessed Louise Brooks in Berlin, so I've always been a bit of a dreamer. Makes me full of fun surprises."

Abaddon's mouth twists as she says, "You really are different," before turning her focus back down to Dean with a smile. "I so do appreciate you coming when I call. That's what I like about you Winchesters - so obedient. And suicidally stupid. I like that too."

"Are we going to fight or make out? Because I'm getting some real mixed signal here."

The smile disappears again and Meg continues with her quiet struggling because she's not one to give up that easily. "I want Crowley," Abaddon tells him. "Or what's left of him."

"Yeah, what's in it for me?"

"I let you die," she answers. "I'll snap your neck quick and clean, you won't feel a thing, trust me."

Dean shoots a quick glance in Meg's direction and she manages to make a shutter creak open. Awesome. "And if I tell you to get bit?" he asks, looking back at Abaddon.

"Oh," she says, "well, I've loved this body since the moment I first saw it. You're the perfect vessel, Dean. You give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas." Meg stops what she's doing and stares because Dean and demonic possession is not an equation that makes sense, but Abaddon is looking real damn pleased with herself right now. Bitch. "So you go ahead and play hard to get and I'll peel off this No Demons Allowed and blow smoke up your ass. It'll be fun seeing if the little newborn over there has figured out how the exorcise me yet."

No, no she hasn't, she didn't even that was thing that could be done by anyone other than Sam, and Dean must know this because he ignores that and just answers instead, "Are you sure about that? Because between you and me, it is a horror show up there."

"It can get a lot worse. Trust me," she says. "Because once I'm on top I'll make you watch, and I'll use your body. Have you ever felt an infant's blood drip down your chin? Or listened to a girl scream as you rip her guts out? Because you will. You and me, lover, we'll have a grand old time, and we're starting with her."

She moves up her free hand, points in her direction. "If that type of sweet talk didn't work on me in Barcelona," Meg says, "what makes you think it'll work now that Pinocchio’s a real boy?"

All this gets her is a worsening pressure on her chest and Abaddon's grip on Dean visibly tightens. "You destroyed her!" she screams. "Ruined her!"

"Actually, it's kind of nice. Exercising the smile muscles works better if you mean it."

Abaddon ignores her. "The first thing we're doing together is taking this mutilated parody of royalty below and restoring her to the beautiful creature she was." Her grip goes back to his hair and Meg feels herself drop an inch, a few of her fingers unsticking from the wall and pressure getting lighter. "Did she ever tell you how she was made? Alistair had her on the rack but I broke her long before then. She was so young and scared al - what are you doing?"

She hits the ground with a bang that means nothing good for her right side. As she scrambles to stand and reach for the angel blade still in her pocket, Abaddon lifts her hand to throw her back, but both of them are stopped by the glass from the diner windows suddenly blowing out in a flash of white light.

"An angel?"

Dean looks up. "You think we'd roll into this mousetrap without some back up?"

Then he's thrown a store window and Abaddon's gone in a blink, leaving Meg standing alone in a deserted courtyard. "We have an angel?" she asks once he comes running back out, shaking off glass like it's nothing. "Since when do we have an angel? I thought Clarence was as human as me."

Glancing down at her with an expression partway between guilty, apologetic, and resolved, he says, "You're not going to like to this," and walks off towards the diner.

And he's right, she finds out quickly, because the person inside surrounded by all the dead demons is wearing Sam's facing but he isn't Sam. She should know, considering she took Possessing Sam Winchester 101 for a week. Yeah, she's really not liking this at all. "Your brother doesn't know about this, does he?" she says because she knows possession is just about one of his worst fears. "How the fuck did you manage to swing getting an angel into Sam's body without his consent?"

"It's complicated," he answers before turning back to the angel who is not Sam. "Ezekiel? What the Hell did you do?"

She scrolls through her short mental list of angels piled up as far back as she can remember, but doesn't remember an Ezekiel outside of the prophet. "They were going to kill him, Dean," he says. "I was protecting your brother. I thought that is what you wanted."

"Protect Sam?" she glances back and forth between the two of them. "Dean, what did you do?"

"If Sam went through with the Trials, he was going to die, Meg," he says, looking down at her. "He stopped, but he was in bad shape and I got him to the hospital and he was going to die anyway and I couldn't let that happen and Cas wasn't answering so I let out a bullet point prayer. Ezekiel answered. Didn't have the strength to heal from the outside, bargain he'd hang around inside pretending he wasn't there and heal both of them. What -"

"And your brother just doesn't know about this?"

"Sam knowing would mean my ejection," Ezekiel answers for him. "As I am sure you of all people know."

"That was then and it was different."

"He faults you for none of it."

Oh fuck, she developing one massive headache and she's not sure if it's from the wall, this, or both. Fucking Winchesters and their fucked up codependency. "But is Sam okay?" Dean asks, not understanding how unbelievably awkward he's just made her newfound love life.

Ezekiel's eyes sweep around the room and shit, this changes everything. "He was knocked unconscious," he says. "In a way he still he is. Sam will not remember any of this."

Purposely avoiding her gaze, Dean says, "So what am I supposed to tell him when he comes to?"

"It is why I used the knife."

He takes it back, flips it over. "Right. Smart."

"But you are troubled still."

Really, it's like Sam without a soul again except a little more creepy because at least that was still Sam. This is...an angel. Who isn't Lucifer and now she really wishes she could get that image out of her head. "Yeah, well," Dean says, "just that, uh, this is on me." While still blatantly avoiding her, he continues, "I was the one who talked Sam out of boarding up Hell, okay? So every demon deal, every kill that they make - well, you're looking at the person that let it happen."

Fucking Winchesters and their guilt complexes. "You're a hypocrite," she says, shaking her head. "You do realize you tell the complete opposite to him about the Apocalypse and that was a much more isolated event than not boarding something that's been open for as long as humanity has existed, right?"

"The girl does speak the truth," Ezekiel says and yeah, it's weird already, but now an angel other than Castiel is agreeing with her. "You were protecting your brother. I am in Sam's head. I know. And I know what you did, you did out of love."

Dean fidgets and in any other situation, Meg might even laugh. "Yeah, look, Zeke," he says. "I'm going to call you Zeke - I'm not really with the whole love...and love..."

"But it is why I said yes."

"Yeah, if that goes sideways, that's on me too."

"That is not going to happen."

They talk, for not much longer, about good guys and bad guys or whatever while largely ignoring her as she sulks in the corner. At the end, though, before Ezekiel goes to "pass out" and go back to being an oblivious Sam who would be flat out terrified if he knew the truth, he pauses to stare her straight in the eyes and says, "You have been absolved. I shall darken myself to anything you wish me not to see."

 

 

After dropping the rookie back at her car, which is thankfully on the way since Meg's not up for a detour, they pick up tacos and head back to the bunker. Ben and Kevin are more than enthusiastic at getting real food and Sam disappears without eating anything after the boys' talk with Crowley. She finishes up just because she's hungry enough to before following him.

He's on his bed when he gets there, laptop out and presumably looking up the names Lucky handed out and she's having less trouble than she expected separating his face from Dean's idiot move. Same face, but definitely different people and as someone who was in the possession game for a long, long time, she knows all the tells. "If it makes you feel any better, your darling brother and I told that little girl off for not fact checking," she says and he doesn't take his eyes from the screen.

"She's got every right to be pissed," he says. "And compassion from you is something I'm still getting used to, Meg."

She takes a seat next to him on the bed uninvited. "Oh, I would've done it anyway, Sammy baby," she tells him. "Only difference is she still has those big brown eyes of hers I bet she's so fond of."

Shaking his head with something close to exasperation, he says, "You're ridiculous," and closes his computer. "You know, when Crowley started becoming human he started crying out about how he 'deserved to be loved' and the demon on the video did a one-eighty, too. So how come you're so unchanged? Not that I mind," he adds quickly. "As fucked as it is, I'm sort of relieved you're still...mostly you."

Sam Winchester is like an insane overgrown puppy and seven years later she still thinks it's adorable. Odds are that isn't changing any time soon, either. "I was basically a Disney princess before she met her life-saving prince when I human the first time around," she answers. "So, you know, I wasn't exactly a happy kid, but I never did anything wrong either. Life experience since then has made me just a little sarcastic."

"Who were you?" he asks. "The first time, I mean. And uh, I accidently saw the screen the day you stole my laptop, so I'm guessing it has to do with France and actual royalty."

"Excellent deduction, Sherlock." He shoots her The Look and she rolls her eyes. Dean knows bits and pieces by now, that angel inside him probably knows everything, and it's backwards that Sam doesn't. She'd rather him find out from her than Abaddon or his brother, anyway. "Fine, whatever," she says. "My father possessed the Queen of France in Thirteen Fourteen about a year after she had her son Phillip - who hated me, by the way, same with my sister Joan - and the situation was never explained to me but somehow she was accused of adultery, some big trial happened, and she imprisoned underground. For some reason her husband, who believed that she'd been possessed or whatever according to Crowley, didn't mind me, but essentially threw me in a suite with a bunch of servants for my own protection because other people didn't like the bastard child living in the palace. Or something.

"To make a long story short, King Charles got an annulment and remarried the same year both my siblings died. I was eight, Blanche of Burgundy - who I never met - also died I think a year later, his second wife Marie had a kid but they both died, then he married Jeanne who surprisingly didn't hate me either. Technically I wasn't Charles' kid, but they agreed if they could get me married, since they couldn't seem to have a kid of their own, whoever my husband was could be the heir of the French crown. They couldn't prove I wasn't actually his anyway, so it's not like the public would know."

It surprises her, a little, when all the sudden her feeling apathy she has drops and she doesn't want to talk about this anymore because seven hundred years later and the end result still hurts like a bitch. Sam's looking like he isn't sure if he should say something since she stopped, so she continues on, "They found someone when I was twelve. I never even met him. Guess Daddy didn't like that because he sent Abaddon to correct the problem." She looks down at her lap, fiddles with the hem of her shirt in a move that's just so despicably human. "I was out to town, for once. I got these trips like once year because I was such a delicate flower, and she just...came out of nowhere. Slaughtered almost everyone in the area but left me not even bloody, which made it look like I was involved or something. Those left didn't recognize me. Didn't even bother bringing me to trail in from of the king, made a make shift pyre right there in the center of town and burned me as a witch. Next thing I know I'm a twelve-year-old down in Hell and Abaddon showed me the bad side of humanity. I broke within a year Hell-time. That's a record according to Alistair."

Sam stares at her for a moment, like he isn't sure if she's going to do anything else, before he says, "You were twelve, Meg. I mean - Jesus Christ. You didn't do anything -"

"Neither did you."

"Yeah, back then. And I was fine with you after three months at twenty-two so if it makes you feel better, I think I have you beat."

Logically, she knows she shouldn't feel bad about it because he's right; she was just a kid. The worst thing she'd ever done was pretend to eat her dinner sometimes and later feed it to the cat because it tasted bad and she didn't want to insult the cook. But she's human now and with humanity comes guilt and it sucks and it's awful and it hurts but hey, her birth helped spark the Hundred Years' War and yesterday she made out with the guy who started the Apocalypse because he was high on demon blood. Apparently the cereal mascot downstairs gathering dust in the archives thought he deserved to be loved, but she doesn't care much about that. Her only objective is to have a better life than she did before (Hell, she had a better life as a demon than she did as a human) and so far she's getting a good start.

Why bother worrying about deserving or justification? All that matters is that she wants it. And that's what being human is, at the core of it: wanting, because there aren't many things you actually need.

"Close your eyes," she says, talking to the angel really instead of Sam, who just look at her in confusion, "and move your laptop."

The look of confusion increases until the implication dawns on him and he slides it on the end table. He's a mess of trust issues, guilt, and fear wrapped into one, so they don't do much of anything, but she's so screwed up in the head too right now that the doesn't matter either.

 

 

Since she'd been wearing Marilynn's face around consistently since 2009, her general appearance is something nearing famous among the supernatural community - especially considering her roots are growing in brown, which means her hair is going back to its natural color. Hallelujah for that. All in all, though, this boils down to an almost explosive argument with her against literally everyone else in the bunker besides Ben who wasn't allowed an opinion about how she shouldn't be allowed to go along on the search for Clarence because she's associated with him directly and there are too many angels involved. Cured or not, she still has enough Hell in her blood to make her a potential threat and, well, no one says it but the whole rightful ruler deal hasn't been cut out of her either. Joy.

So now she's stuck at the bunker staring at her phone, pissed off and in a bad mood, and she barely notices when Lisa comes to sit next to her. She likes the woman, thinks she's a good fit for Dean and all his abandonment issues, and even likes the kid. Kevin, too. It's a weird feeling, actually liking people outside of her ragamuffin group of two sad hunters and an angel with broken wings.

Or no wings now, she supposes. Little birdie had his snipped and even as a demon, she could appreciate how beautiful they were. "If you think this is bad, ask Dean about the time we got into the fight over whether or not he should wipe our memories," Lisa says, causing Meg to jump with surprise because she's never had a person sneak up on her before. "At least they acknowledge you're not some damsel in distress."

"Spend eight years kicking their asses," she tells her. "Their opinions will change pretty quick. Though, I guess you can bake pie and that's not too bad, either."

Lisa smiles, tight lipped and humorless. "Those two are ridiculous," she says. "They act like the whole world's their responsibility and they get a choice on who wants to help. They get so wrapped up in themselves and not letting anyone else get hurt that they don't even realize they are hurting other people."

She thinks on it for a moment before saying, "That's a surprisingly accurate description."

"You're a fighter, I'm a mother. We see different things."

Ever since she got here, she hasn't really talked to anyone outside of Sam and Dean. It's just how it ended up inevitably because first she was a demon, and now she's a cured one, and she and Wonder Boy can have conversations sweet and easy because it isn't too hard for the alienated to relate to each other. She helps spark a war, he ends the world. Doesn't matter that they went to Hell. Being human - being "absolved" - doesn't make her think much better of humanity. "Suppose you're right," she says eventually because she might not think much of humanity as a whole and she might be a freak and she might not have talked to much of anyone but this woman is a miracle and doesn't even realize it. Individuals are good; it's the group as a whole that's bad. "Clarence isn't much better. Worse, actually. Feathers asks for help from the wrong people so he doesn't get the right people involved. You sure got yourself tangled up in one twisted web, Lisa."

The other woman looks down at her crossed legs and smoothes out her skirt. "Well," she says, "I've come to the conclusion that that's what they do while trying not to and it's the most fucked up thing in the world. But I also know nothing's happening to me or Ben again. I don't know how I know, I just do. Dean won't let it."

"You've got the unusual luxury of being a civvie in the know," Meg tells her, going back to staring down at the phone because she wants her angel. "That makes you a rare and special creature. No, if Miss Big Bad wants your darling's weak point, Sam is much more accessible. Especially now with you and Ben here."

"What about you? From the way Sam looks at you, I'd say you're a weak point."

"Oh, I'm not wanted as a weak point," she answers. "I'm Abaddon's greatest creation undone."

Finally, the phone rings.

 

 

Clarence isn't expecting the hug, but that's fair because she isn't expecting him to leave so quickly either. After he's gone, and after Sam gets lied to again and told Cas wants to leave, she and Dean get into a whisper fight where Sam can't hear.

"I told you this was a bad plan, Dean!"

"Yeah, what else was I supposed to do? Zeke leaves, Sam dies!"

"I know, that's why it sucks."

"Well, if you have any bright ideas, I'm all ears."

Meg has no bright ideas.

 

 

This is the thing: even as a demon, Meg was always despicably honest with Sam. It was hard not to be, since she had this bizarre mix of a having a soft spot for him and knowing that truth most of the time would hurt him more than lying. When they were in Hell, she can count on one hand the number of times she lied to him. Since then? Well, she can't think of anything. Actually, with the exception of times she was being tortured and needed to lie, she'd never been particularly dishonest to begin with. Her father hadn't been, Lucifer hadn't been, most of her father's lackey's weren't either; mostly it was Crowley and Lilith's ranks that were the deceptive ones, because they were trying to take what wasn't theirs.

So, basically, what this means is that she's not used to keeping secrets like this. It is lying through omission after all. Thing One and Thing Two are the liars, not her. Oh, and Tweety Bird, but that's another matter all together.

Now she and Sam in his room, Dean off some somewhere with his girlfriend and Ben and Kevin playing with the Xbox or whatever it’s called that they went out and bought, and he just looks sort of puppy-ish and deflated. "Is something wrong with me?" he asks. "More than usual, I mean."

"Not that I've noticed," she answers, and technically it's true - he's got a separate person inside of him who isn't really him, so the problem isn’t him but someone else. Being human also means having the ability to get a headache, and she's not admiring these new brainteasers. "Though I'm sure if you asked Dean, he'd think of about a dozen things you should be doing differently."

"And I'm sure you can name half of them off the top of your head." Yeah, yeah, she can, actually, and that's not just because she snuggled up next to Sam's soul and shared his body at one point, either. By this point she just sort of knows them. It's always eat more, Sammy or tell me the next time you get like this, Sammy or make sure you're getting enough sleep, Sammy. He's like the overprotective movie parent the protagonist little kid hates, except it doesn't work that way at all. He continues, "I don't know. I just feel like I keep losing time or blacking out or something but other than that I feel better."

Losing time. Sam always was too perceptive for his own good. "Could be those Trials still," she says and hates Dean just a little for making her lie. "I can't imagine they left you squeaky clean."

"Yeah, I guess." He sounds doubtful, though, and she feels so guilty it hurts. "I haven't been seeing Lucifer either."

"And you're complaining?"

"Not really. I might talk to my psychiatrist about going off the medication."

She tells him that's a bad idea, but she doesn't know how having an angel possessing him works and she's not one to talk anyway. She wonders how Ezekiel is dealing with the horror show locked inside his mind.

Instead of thinking too hard, she does what's safe and goes back to reading hair dye instructions. This is an issue she doesn’t know how to deal with, so she does what’s easy and puts it off for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue was taken directly from the episodes.
> 
> Oh, and I was flipping through the other series in the stories to make sure I limit plot holes to the ship switches, and I realize I mention the Yellow Brick road in the first fic.


End file.
